


Offering

by Magpiedance



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Ambiguous Deputy (Far Cry), Bliss (Far Cry), Feet Washing, Hand & Finger Kink, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Other, Peggies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 23:45:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14224425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magpiedance/pseuds/Magpiedance
Summary: Hurt and confused the Deputy wanders through a field of Bliss.





	Offering

**Author's Note:**

> _I know that you're trying_
> 
> _yes_
> 
> _but you're not saving anything_
> 
> -

Your ankle hurts. That's the one thing you're sure of right now.

You're not sure why it hurts, or how long it's been hurting for, or where you are or how you got here. There are all these pretty flowers around you and they smell GOOD and it's so bright and maybe there are butterflies? Or you might be seeing spots it's hard to tell.

There are two men near you and they seem very excited to see you which is nice.

"Hey, guys...” you call out to them, and wave, even though your arms are super heavy right now.

More people are coming and they are SO happy to see you. 'It's nice to be popular' you think as the world whirls past and you land in the dirt with a heavy 'thwomp'.

When you open your eyes you're somewhere else. It's still daytime, so maybe it's still today, you think.

You're upright which is a good start. Very good. You're sitting. In a chair, probably. Your hands seem to be a bit tied behind you but that's probably fine because everything is so _wonderful_.

Someone is talking to you and it's rude not to listen when someone is speaking so you concentrate really hard until Joseph's face comes into soft focus in front of you. The words he's saying sound like they're coming from under water, and you become briefly fascinated by the shapes his mouth makes as it moves. His voice is soft, but commanding. There's steel in it, even if you can't make out the words. There are other people too, and they are so, so beautiful. Everyone is beautiful, you suddenly think. How had you not noticed before? Joseph smiles like he agrees so maybe you said that out loud. You try to tell him that he's beautiful too even though he's too tall and too skinny and his sunglasses make him look like an alien but your tongue doesn't feel right so you're not sure if you made any sense.

He beckons for something and a woman steps forward with a basin of water. Joseph folds his ridiculous scarecrow body up to kneel in front of you. His hands work the laces of your boots and when you realise he's trying to remove them you lift your feet obediently one at a time. It's nice to be helpful even if it's weird that he's stealing your shoes.

His hands on your bare feet are rough and almost sandpapery but in a good way. You wish he would touch you more until his fingers press against your ankle at which point your world is narrowed down very suddenly to a single point of bright, sharp pain. Joseph has your foot in his lap and you can see now the shades of blue and purple blossoming on your skin. More mysterious watery noises come from Joseph's mouth, and you guess from the look of contrition on his face that he's apologising.

He wrings a cloth in the water and wipes gently over your skin. Softly, softly, he doesn't just clean the mud from your leg he also drags the cloth over the sole of your foot, and inbetween your toes, and after your hurt ankle is bandaged Joseph washes your other foot as well. Throughout he has a look of intense focus, as though this task were as important as any he'd undertaken. Finally he rinses his hands off and someone takes the basin away. When he stands he seems taller than he did a moment or a lifetime ago and it makes you dizzy to see his strange unfocused outline contrasting against a clear blue sky. You want to tell him to stop being so fuzzy but you can't remember how words work so it's probably better if you don't say anything.

He is speaking though, always speaking. He talks so much.

Maybe he knows that he sounds all wrong, because he leans in a little closer which doesn't help but he does bring his hands up to your face and you get a good look at them.

He has long slender fingers, pianists fingers you've heard them called. You remember how good they felt touching your feet and you are struck with a sudden need to feel them again. You want to reach out and intertwine his fingers with your own but they're caught behind you in some horribly unfair trap so you do the only thing you can think of. You close your eyes and move your head forwards just a bit.

The watery sound coming from Joseph instantly stops.

His fingers feel different in your mouth than they did when he was using them to touch your feet. Rough, yes. Callused. But fragile, somehow. You could break them with your teeth, but instead you lathe your tongue along them, engrossed by the earthy salt taste. Someone moans in a way that sounds pained and you don't think it was you so maybe it was him. When you open your eyes again everyone is looking at you and no one is speaking. Joseph's eyes are as wide as saucers. You can't be bothered parsing out what that means so you reapply yourself to the task at hand, your eyes shuddering closed again.

After a moment you feel long, slender fingers carding through your hair. The watery noise starts up again, but this time it sounds completely uncertain.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Titled after the [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N_fyjvBcjgE) of the same name by Cults (appropriate).


End file.
